Sherlock 1. The Game, My Dear Molly, Is On

Molly's POV

Molly fiddled with the bobby pins securing the front of her hair as she strode down the hall ways of St. Bart's. She'd only been there three hours and it already felt like forever.

_'Only 9 hours to go'_, she told herself as she entered her lab. It was a slow day at the morgue, which means Molly had plenty of paper work to get done before the day was out. It had been two weeks since Moriarty appeared on her television screen at work. She cringed at the memory of,**_ "did you miss me?"_**. It had also been two weeks since he had seen Sherlock and John. She was beginning to think she would never see them again after those hearty slaps she whipped across his face. She didn't regret it though. Truth be told, she still loved the man deeply, but he was never going to make her into a doe eyed, servant girl ever again.

Molly drained her second cup of coffee and was about to pull herself from her paper work when she heard the doors to the lab being pushed open. There stood Sherlock, beautiful as ever. Scarf tied neatly with the collar of his coat turned up. Trailing behind him with a sweet smile on his face was John Watson. Thinking better than to greet them too kindly (not because of poor John, of course) she looked over at them with a quick smile then returned her eyes to her desk.

"Molly, could you be a dear and fetch me a fresh corpse. I'm bored, need to experiment," he flashed a smile that seemed genuine enough. Molly considered giving into his devilish charms but felt a twinge of anger in her chest.

"Actually, Sherlock, I'm quite busy. I do have a job to do, you know. I didn't go to medical school just so I could spend my life doing favors for you. You can just wait until I am finished here before you get your hands on any bodies," she stated, a smile never breaking on her face. He looked positively stunned. "Oh! And while your waiting," she handed him her mug, "could you pop by the canteen and get me some more coffee. That would be tremendous."

He stared at her then back down at the mug. He looked as if he was contemplating doing her the favor but turned on his heel with John in tow. As soon as she was sure he was gone, Molly grinned widely._ 'Good going, Molly old girl'_ she thought to herself. Her smile dropped once again as she looked down and remembered that she actually did have work to do.

Sherlock's POV

_'What an odd day_', Sherlock thought to himself as he walked side by side with John, mug in hand._ 'Really? What is her deal today? I certainly haven't done anything to offend her lately...or have I? She could still angry about the drug thing...no, no that isn't it'_ his train of thought was interrupted by the short man beside him clutching his arm.

"Sherlock, get out of your head, you almost passed up the canteen."

"Oh...right."

"What do you suppose is up with Molly? She is acting rather strangely today."

"I assure you, John, I haven't the faintest idea."

As they walked together toward the lab, John's phone began to ring, he handed the mug back to Sherlock and told him to go ahead in, that he would join them in a minute._ 'Mary'_, Sherlock thought to himself. He then whisked on toward the lab without John.

Molly's POV

She really could get so much done without Sherlock and John running about, but she had to admit she missed the company of the two men when they weren't around. Sherlock, picking at things just to get John all riled up, and John spitting insults toward him in return. Oh, how they made her laugh sometimes. But, with them gone to get her coffee, she got almost half her work load done in the silence.

"Your coffee," said a low voice behind her, she stiffened but suddenly relaxed, recognizing the voice right away, "Dr. Hooper".

She turned to meet his gaze. His usually sharp eyes seemed to have softened somehow since the last time she'd seen him, She pushed her thought process away and took the mug from his hands. Her finger brushed his slightly, it sent shivers down her spine. She knew he had to have noticed but she said nothing and turned back around to the papers skewed about her desk. She felt a bit annoyed when she heard a stool being dragged over next to hers. This part of her job felt tedious enough without Sherlock hovering above her.

"So, you actually have to fill out all this nonsense?" he scrunched his nose as he looked over her shoulder. "Don't you find it tedious?"

She gave him a small chuckle, "I was actually just thinking about how tedious I found it."

He reached over her arm to grab the autopsy she had laying on top. If she hadn't known Sherlock any better, she would have thought he was leaning his arm against hers on purpose. But he couldn't possibly be looking for an excuse for contact...could he? She mentally scolded herself for caring. She jerked her left arm that he had leaned his right arm against off the desk. He looked a little taken aback but seemed to shrug it off as he brought the paper closer to his vision.

"Albert Yates...age 39, died of gun shot to the back of the head...boring...boring...," he flipped the page to show a picture of the deceased and he shot out of his stool, "Not boring! Not boring at all! Molly!" he turned to her, yanking toward him, "Albert Yates! Do you know what this means?!"

She was standing so close to him and she felt out of breath but she managed to shake her head no. His eyes widened, he looked like a kid in a candy store. He twirled her around as if they had been dancing.

"Albert Yates! Moriarty's network!" he began pushing her forward, "the game, my dear Molly, is on! To the morgue!"

As he ran past her to get to the morgue, all Molly could do was roll her eyes and trudge after him. This twelve-hour shift just got longer._ 'Well,'_ she thought to herself, _'at least her actually brought the coffee'_

When she finally made it into the morgue she slammed into Sherlock.

"Sherlock, why are you just standing in front of the do-" she was silenced when one of his hands clamped over her mouth, he pointed with the other. The body of Albert Yates, which she had locked up over an hour ago, was sitting on a slab in the middle of the room. On top of the body was an envelope.

Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand and gently removed it from her mouth. She strode past him very quickly. When she reached the metal table she picked up the envelope. She felt Sherlock behind her, trying to read over her shoulder. Molly felt her heart drop in her stomach as she eyed the writing on the front:

**_"Molly"_**


	2. What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

__**Molly's POV__**

_'Dear Molly,_

_ It's been so long since we've spoken, darling. **Have you missed me?** Of all the people in Sherlock Holmes' life, you have been the most surprising to me. I thought you were just this silly little girl who worshiped the ground he walked on...but look at you now: strong & independent. I've underestimated your worth to him. _

_ Hard to believe it's been years since we've seen each other. But, that's all about to change. Keep a look out for more letters, Molly Hooper. I'll be keeping in contact. I could always shoot you a text, but the written word is so much more personal. We'll have our little reunion soon enough. Give my regards to Sherlock._

_ XOXO_

_ Jim_

_ P.S. I hope you enjoyed the little gift I sent you...he was really starting to get in the way of progress.'_

"He knows you helped me fake my death," Sherlock stated, "now he's going to toy with you."

"Who is toying with people?" Asked an uninformed John Watson as he pushed through the double doors to join his friends.

"Moriarty. He's figured out Molly is a huge part of how I survived. He obviously isn't too pleased with her at the moment."

"Obviously," she parroted, "He's probably trying to illustrate what happens to people who get in the way of his progress. He left me this letter" she gestured to the folded up paper inside Sherlock's grasp.

He pulled it from Sherlock's tight grip and scanned over the contents. His eyes went wide and angry when he ripped his gaze from the paper.

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure, John. I saw the photo on Albert Yates' autopsy and recognized him as one of Moriarty's men that had disappeared while I was on the hunt to destroy the network. There isn't very much we can do until he sends Molly another letter. Though I feel he wants revenge on Molly for helping me fake my death, overall, he wants me. He's using Molly to bring me out to play."

"So...you want to use me as bait?" Molly furrowed her brow.

"In a way, yes," he began to look offended, "you don't honestly think I would ever allow him to hurt you? Contrary to belief, I care very much about your well-being, Molly Hooper. I can think of few people in this world I honestly care about and your name is without a doubt on that list."

As much as she wanted to act cool, and aloof in that moment, she couldn't. Love for him and guilt washed together as she reached out and tugged on his scarf so she could kiss his cheek. His pale face seemed to turn rosy as she released him.

"Thank you, Sherlock. I hope you can forgive me."

"I care about you too, Molly." John added jokingly as he winked at her.** John.** Always the sweetest man in the room. Molly chuckled and walked gracefully over to John to place a kiss on his cheek as well.

"Don't you go run off telling Mary about this," she chided, "she's become one of my best friends and I intend to keep her."

"I intend to keep her as well," John replied.

"If you two are done being sentimental, I believe it's time we start discussing a course of action," Sherlock chimed in, looking bored.

"What action, Sherlock? You, yourself said that there isn't much we can do until he writes me again."

"Well, yes, but what about your current living arrangement? You live alone with your cat, Molly. He very well can't tell Scotland Yard if Moriarty decides he's bored with his game and snatches you away in the middle of the night."

"That's right, Molls. How about for the time being you come live with Mary and I?" John suggested.

"Oh John, I couldn't impose on you and Mary, especially with you two busying yourselves preparing for the baby. I should be just fine on my own."

"Molly is right, John. When little Sherlock arrives, your flat is going to be crowded as it is. But I disagree with you continuing to live alone, Molly."

"I've told you Sherlock, we're not naming our baby after you! We're having a girl!"

"Then where do you suggest I stay then, Mr. Holmes?" Molly asked irritably.

"Well, if you aren't opposed to body parts in the freezer, violin music, or watching me talk to a skull, you could always move into John's old room."

Molly pondered over the situation. A part of her was screaming to take him up on the offer. Living with the love of her life did sound tempting. But, the more logical part of her brain was interjecting the opposite. He may be the love of her life, but what did she really think was going to happen? That their close living conditions would make him fall in love with her?

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Sherlock. Thank you for the offer, but no thank you.".

Sherlock looked offended again. "Why not? Any specific reason?"

She began to ponder again. _'Yes! Because I'm in love with you, you insufferable man! Spending so much time with you would just make my already deep feelings even deeper,_' but just as Molly was about to answer, she remembered,_ 'you can't say all of that out loud, you fool! Especially with John standing right there!'_

"...no," she muffled.

"Good! You can move in after your shift! Come along, John! Let's go back to my flat and shoot at the wall a bit, eh?"

"I thought Mrs. Hudson hid your revolver!" she heard John yell at Sherlock as he began making his way after Sherlock.

She could literally hear his eye roll. "Please, John! Don't ask stupid questions!"

Molly began to chuckle as she moved to clean up the mess that Moriarty had left her when she heard motion toward the entrance of the morgue again. She turned around to find John Watson's head peeking through.

"May God have mercy on your soul, Molly Hooper," he gave her a half-smile and exited once again.

_'What have I gotten myself into?'_ she sighed and went back to work.


	3. Welcome to Baker Street, Molly Hooper

A.N. Just wanted to say a few things! :)

I've appreciated all the sweet reviews. You have no idea how excited I am that people seem to enjoy my story. I've seen many people talking on Tumblr about how writers are still portraying Molly as she was before Series 3, but that is not my intention, I assure you. I am keeping her a little awkward because I feel that, that is just how Molly is. She's sweet-natured & awkward with a back bone and that's just how I like her. Next chapter I think will be in Sherlock's POV. I love writing him. Anyways, I'll stop my babbling now and let you get on to why you're actually here.

Lots of love,

TheShamyFan123

**MOLLY'S POV**

Molly approached the front door to her new (temporary) home. As she waited for a reply she stretched her shoulders up and down. The weight of her belongings along with carrying Toby around in his carrier made her arms feel sore. She was shook back into reality when Mrs. Hudson swung the door open and smiled at her lovingly.

"Hello, Molly! Oh! Let me help you with your things! You must be tired from carrying so much around, you poor dear. Don't just stand out there in the cold, follow me!"

Mrs. Hudson always managed to make her feel at home. She stepped inside and let Toby out of his carrier so that he may get the run of the land. He snuggled around Mrs. Hudson's feet. She cooed at the feline and bent over to scratch his ears. Molly loved that Toby was taking to Mrs. Hudson so easily. At least she would have someone to look after him while she worked, seeing as Sherlock would be a less than desirable cat sitter (he always tried to experiment on him when he came to visit Molly).

Once they reached the top of the stairs Mrs. Hudson turned to face Molly. Her face was unreadable.

"Now, Molly. I've come to accept the many...quirks of Sherlock Holmes over the years, but I'm not always prepared to see what is waiting for me on the other side of this door. Sometimes, everything is normal, he'll just be sprawled out on the couch with patches up and down his arm. But, other times...like last week, I walked in on him catapulting body parts across the room in boredom. Just roll with the punches...it gets easier."

With that she stepped through the door. Molly could hear Mrs. Hudson scolding him before she could even get fully inside the flat.

"Sherlock Holmes! I thought I hid your cigarettes!"

"Oh, you mean like you hid my revolver?" he smirked and flung the revolver in the air with his free hand.

She groaned in frustration and threw her hands up in the air.

"I give up. But I will be calling your mother," she turned around to leave the flat, "Molly, if you need any help getting settled or with that one," she deadpanned towards Sherlock, "just let me know."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!" she called down the stairs.

Now came the part she had dreaded since she locked up her flat earlier that night; she was alone with Sherlock. Not that he made her nervous anymore, Molly just feared that she would feel as alone here as she had when she actually lived alone. Toby ran past her feet to ball up in John's chair, trying to avoid Sherlock's gaze at all cost. She took in a deep breath as she lifted her bags and started to make her way up to John's bedroom. She was almost halfway up the stairs when she heard her name being called.

"Molly!"

"Yes, Sherlock?" she called after him.

"When your down putting your bags in your room, come down and join me!"

"Alright."

After she had her things all settled in, she decided she should probably change out of her lab coat and jumper. She rummaged through her wardrobe until she found her favorite pair of pajama pants and top to match. The sinking feeling of,_ 'this is not your home, Molly. Don't get too comfortable'_ kept rising up in her mind. But she fought internally with herself,_ 'doesn't matter. This is the card we've been dealt. You should at least **try** to be comfortable'._

She padded her way back down the stairs to see that Sherlock was lighting another cigarette. She disliked the smell of smoke but decided not to say anything. It was his home, he could do as he pleases. She picked up a sleeping Toby and cradled him in her lap as she took place in John's chair. She eyed the man in front of her. He was doing the same back.

"Deducing, are we?" she asked coyly.

"The pajama set. It's your favorite. It looks faded, due to many washes."

"Very good."

"You're annoyed with the smoking." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"I really wouldn't say annoyed, actually. I just dislike the smell and I don't have to remind you that I've seen on many occasions what it does to the lungs."

"Your ex-fiance smoked," again, it was a statement.

She sighed. "That he did."

"So...what happened to...Tim?"

"Tom." she corrected.

"Right, right. Of course."

"I'd really rather not talk about it."

"You broke up with him, not the other way around," he furrowed his brow, leaning a little closer.

"Sherlock...stop."

"But, why? He seemed to be a nice bloke. Not too smart, mind you, but nice enough. Or was nice not what you were looking for?"

Feeling a little angry she shooed Toby off her lap. She strode over to stand in front of him and snatched the cigarette out of his hand, dumping it in his tea. He looked upset at first, but just as she was sure he was about to start yelling, he burst into a fit of laughter. His laughter proved to be infectious as she began to laugh along with him.

"You are such a git!" she exclaimed and they began to laugh even harder.

As their laughs began to die, Molly looked over at Sherlock...really looked at him. She had never seen him look so utterly human. She didn't want the moment to end, but she felt like she should say something. She did want to tell him why her engagement had ended, eventually. She just couldn't bring herself to talk about it tonight.

"I'll tell you about it, eventually. I promise."

He waltzed across the room to retrieve his violin and began to play it loudly. He closed his eyes and paced around the flat, never missing a note and never bumping into anything. She curled up in John's chair and just watched him play the instrument. He really was very talented. Her eyes began to droop as his song began to wind down.

In her half-sleep state, she'd only noticed that the music had stopped when she felt a blanket being tucked over her. Toby rushed to her lap and began to purr. She heard faint noises of movement around the her until a very distinct "plop!" occurred on the other end of the room. She looked up in her haze to see Sherlock laying corpse straight on the couch with his hands brought to his lips. She smiled and thought to herself,_ 'mind palace'._ Just as she began to drift off into sleep she heard a low voice hum from the couch.

"Welcome to Baker Street, Molly Hooper."


	4. Thank You For Everything, Molly

A.N. I know I said I was going to do this chapter in Sherlock's POV but I just felt it isn't time for that yet. I'd say the majority of this story will be Molly POV.

MOLLY'S POV

When Molly awoke the next morning she heard Toby running about Mrs. Hudson's feet as she carried tea to the coffee table. It surprised her to look over and see Sherlock was sleeping heavily on the couch. She always took him as an early riser. She got up and stretched her limbs before walking upstairs to pick out fresh clothes.

Once she had done so, she vanished into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Before all this craziness had occurred, Molly had fully intended on spending her day off today sipping tea and re-reading one of her favorite books. Whether Sherlock liked it or not, she was going to continue with her plans.

Stepping out of the shower, Molly wrapped a towel around herself and unfogged the mirror to look at her reflection. She really had come such a long way in just a few short years. She was no longer the mousey, rambling Molly Hooper who would let anyone use her as a door mat. No. Now she was Molly Hooper, the sweet women who was surprisingly strong.

She began weaving a brush through her long locks. After doing so, she began to put her hair in a tight side braid. As she watched her pale, short fingers lace through the sopping strands, she couldn't help but be reminded of one of the hardest days of her life.

**FLASHBACK**

It was the day of Sherlock's "funeral" and Molly Hooper felt on edge. She'd broken down and bought a new dress for the occasion (seeing as how the only black dress she owned was from the Christmas party). She pulled it on over her head and let the fabric slide down her long figure. It really was a beautiful dress. She wished she would have had a better reason to wear it than to mourn the "death" of her friend. She looked in her mirror to decide what to do with her hair. She shrugged internally and decided that a simple side braid would do. As she began to braid she saw a familiar face enter in behind her.

"Now, Molly," Sherlock began, "you have to make this believable."

She rolled her eyes. "I know, Sherlock. You sound like a broken record."

"Maybe you should put on some eye-makeup. It will make your pouts more effective."

"I'm not going to put on any heavy make-up, Sherlock. It's a funeral."

"Come now, my death has left you broken-hearted! Show some emotion, woman!"

She whipped around to face him. "Me show emotion?! That's rich coming from you!"

"I have emotions, Molly!" he snapped.

She went quiet and looked at their feet for a while before looking at him. "So it wasn't an act?"

"What wasn't an act?" he asked as he met her gaze.

"What you said at Bart's...I count...I matter...you trust me. You honestly do value me?"

His eyes widened but he never left her gaze. "Every word I said to you was the truth. I had never felt more vulnerable in my life. I do trust you. You matter. If it came down to your life over mine, I would choose you without hesitation."

When she came back to her flat that night, Sherlock was gone. She wouldn't see him again for two years. The events of that morning played in her mind during the service. It broke her heart to see everyone she held dear in so much pain. She had no family of her own. These people were all she had: Mrs. Hudson, John, and Lestrade. She even felt oddly comfortable with Mycroft, who had hugged her and whispered, "We'll be in touch, Dr. Hooper," in her ear before releasing her.

She felt a ping of sadness in her chest when she realized he was gone. She was going to be alone again and for God only knows how long. She shrugged off her coat and flung it on the sofa. She followed suit, sprawling on the cushions, holding her hands over her face. After laying there a while, she decided she had better get some sleep. When she entered her room she noticed there was a folded sheet of paper on her pillow.

It read:

_Thank you for everything, Molly._

_SH_

**FLASHBACK OVER**

Retrieving her book from her room, Molly padded downstairs to sit in John's chair. An awake Sherlock was sipping tea and staring at Toby intently._ 'No doubt thinking about what experiments he could do with him_' Molly thought. She giggled slightly breaking Sherlock's concentration.

"What, may I ask, is so funny?" he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

"You. Just give up. I'm not going to allow you to experiment on Toby."

He made an annoyed noise and crossed his arms, which made her laugh again.

"Don't be a child, Sherlock."

She shook her head and opened her book. A small, white piece of paper flew out and landed next to Sherlock's feet. After Molly remembered what she had been using as a book mark, she began to feel nervous as he picked it up and studied it.

"You kept it." he stated. Face unreadable.

"I did." she replied.

He extended his arm out to reach her the paper. Molly could have sworn his finger tips lingered on her hand as she accepted it from him. He looked into her eyes, making her feel naked under his gaze. She looked down at the paper in her hand and ran her thumb over the bottom where Sherlock had signed, "SH" years ago. They stayed in silence for what felt like an eternity when she heard rushing toward the front entrance. A very frantic looking Mrs. Hudson clutched her chest and breathed heavily. In her hands was a white envelope.

"Molly, dear...post for you."

Molly's felt her heart rate begin to pick up. She lifted herself off the chair and went to meet Mrs. Hudson. She took Mrs. Hudson's hand and led her to the couch to calm down before taking the envelope from her. Sure enough, scribbled on the front was_ 'Molly'._ She opened it quickly and took in the message:

_'Dear Molly,_

_ I told you I would keep in contact! How naughty of you not to give me a head's up on your changing of address. It's okay, though. I love the idea of my two favorite toys being together under one roof. I'm sure moving you to Baker Street was Sherlock's great plan to keep you safe just in case I get bored with our game. Ha! I'm right, aren't I? I know him too well. _

_ Don't worry, my dear. For now you're quite safe. I still have so much great fun planned. I once told Sherlock I would burn out his heart...and you have the most heart of anyone** in his heart.** It's going to devastate him when I get my hands on you, Molly._

_ XOXO_

_ Jim'_


	5. Molly, There's A Note For Ya

_'It's going to devastate him when I get my hands on you, Molly'_, rang in her head the following day at work. Moriarty wasn't just going to be sending her friendly reminders of her eventual doom at work, she was going to get them at home as well. She tried to push the thought to the back of her mind to focus on work, but it seemed to be inevitable. Every time anything made a noise she would jump and feel her heart stop.

Luckily as the day wore on, she stopped scanning over her shoulder every five minutes. Looking through her microscope, she finally started to feel like she was getting things accomplished. She went to glide on another slide when it slipped between her fingers. She fought the urge to swear at her clumsiness and got up to head to the supply room next to the lab for a new slide.

When she went to turn on the light switch, it started to flicker before it eventually died out. _'That figures'_, she muttered under her breath. She charged on using her cell phone as a light source. She was caught off guard when she felt it vibrate in her hand. She peered at the screen:

**1 New Message from Sherlock Holmes:**

**Honestly, Molly. What possessed you to get this particular cat? He's incredibly dull and he keeps hissing at me.**

**SH**

She rolled her eyes and returned her phone to her home screen to fill the room with light once again.

Quickly retrieving the box containing extra slides, Molly began to stroll out of the supply room to resume her work. She was frozen in place when she heard foot steps shuffling about outside of the room in her lab. She tried to control her ragged breathing to listen but her respiratory system failed her as her lungs became desperate for air in panic.

"Molly?" a sweet voice echoed, "We had plans for lunch remember? Are you here?

_'Mary'_, she had never felt so relieved in her life to hear her friend's voice. She exited the supply room, box in hand. She greeted Mary with a warm smile as she shrugged off her coat and opened the box to check the contents.

"Sorry, Mary. I had to go get some new slides. I've been so jumpy all day. I just dropped a perfectly good one," she frowned and pointed to the small amount of broken glass next to her stool.

"I'd say it's been a rough couple of days for you, Molls. But, on the bright side I brought the food," she beamed as she help up two plastic bowls containing salads. "Also," she chimed in, "Sherlock just texted me," she stopped to reach in her bag to retrieve her phone, "Mary, tell Molly to bring home any fresh body parts the morgue can spare. I grow tired of the company of her cat and she won't reply to my messages...SH."

Molly sighed and took her phone from her pocket and began to type:

_'_**I'll do what I can. No promises, though. Try to behave today, Toby isn't an experiment. Find a way to entertain yourself...besides shooting the wall. Mrs. Hudson will have your bum.**

**Molly'**

Peeking over Molly's shoulder, Mary grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Aren't we just all sorts of sassy today, Dr. Hooper?"

"I'm going to have to find him a hobby. This whole _'wait it out'_ thing isn't his style. He gets bored too easily."

"I know a way you could fill his time," Mary winked at her suggestively.

"Oh, stop it!" she turned crimson at the comment.

Mary laughed heavily, but as her laughter died, her expression changed, she placed her hands on her pregnant stomach, "I keep thinking about how much pain John would be in if Sherlock actually died...for real, and then I start thinking about how much pain I would be in. I know I haven't known Sherlock for very long, but he's important to me and I want him to be a part of my child's life. I want you to be a part of my child's life. The thought that there is a mad man after the both of you scares me."

Molly lifted her hand to touch Mary's bump. Tears were in the brim of both their eyes.

"We'll make it through this Mary," she vowed.

Taking off the lids to the containers, the two women began to shovel salad into their mouths. Molly didn't realize how hungry she was until the first forkfuls entered her mouth. As they were finishing up Molly's mobile began to ring.

"Hello?"

"Molly? It's Greg Lestrade."

"Oh, hello. How are you, Greg?" she smiled and made eye contact with Mary to confirm who was on the other end.

"I'm fine, thank you. Actually, I need you to come and meet me."

"Oh, um, alright...anything wrong?"

"Gather Sherlock and meet me at the cemetary."

"Cemetary?"

"Yes. More specifically, meet me at Sherlock's _'grave_'".

"What's happened?"

"It's been dug up and there's a body in there...and it isn't Sherlock's!"

Just as she was about to hang up, she heard Lestrade call out to her again, "and...Molly, there's a note for ya."

With that she grabbed Mary and caught a cab to take them to 221B Baker St.


	6. Not Being Sherlock Was His Only Fault

A.N. I've been so busy with college and work I haven't got to update. My apologies!

SHERLOCK'S POV

_'Click, click, click, click, cli-'_

"John, stop that."

"Stop what?" John answered with a playful smirk on his face.

"Clicking your pen. I know you're doing it on purpose."

John laughed and threw his pen across the room at Sherlock, who dodged his attempt. Turning back to his computer screen he began to type:

**_"Letters for Molly"_**

Sherlock lifted himself from his chair in the most awkward way possible to peer behind John's shoulder to see what he was typing. As he read the title he scrunched his nose in disgust.

"Letters for Molly? Really? John that is the worst one yet."

"How? Moriarty is sending letters to Molly. I don't understand how that is a bad title."

"It lacks originality."

John scoffed and rolled his eyes as Sherlock made a bee line for the couch to throw himself upon it dramatically. The room remained silent until John decided to speak up.

"So, how's living with Molly?"

"It's...fine, John," he answered, monotone.

"Fine? Your tone suggests otherwise."

"I don't dislike it, if that's what you're getting at."

"So you enjoy her company."

_'That was a statement, not a question,'_ Sherlock thought to himself.

"What are you making of this whole situation, Sherlock? It's very unlike you to keep your brilliant opinions to yourself."

"Well, obviously Moriarty wants me to play his game. He doesn't want me to try to figure out where he is, he wants to show himself to me when he feels the time is right and he has had his fun. If I were to track him down, I am not sure what he would do, but my guess is he would punish someone, most likely Molly, for my actions. He doesn't just want to hurt me, he wants to destroy me. Bit by bit. Last time he threatened to end you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, now, he wants to torture Molly, because he underestimated her."

"Poor girl. I still can't believe she kept that bottled up for two years. She is stronger than I give her credit."

"Molly Hooper is not to be underestimated, John."

Sherlock considered his own words,_ 'Molly Hooper is not to be underestimated,'._ This was certainly a true statement. Looking at Molly, you wouldn't believe that she could be such a strong individual. With those big brown eyes and that heart warming smile._ 'Why are you pondering over her smile?'_ he scowled at his mind.

He categorized Molly with words such as brilliant, caring, socially awkward (but who was he to judge?), loyal, brave, and savior._** Savior**_. There were only two people he associated that word with: John and Molly. He had said it to John at the wedding, but he'd never had the chance to tell Molly. She's protected his life more than she knows.

_'Speak of the devil,'_ he thought as Molly arrived with Mary through the flat door,_ 'and he will appear.'_ He laughed to himself. Here he was, thinking of Molly as a savior and he had just used a phrase depicting her the opposite. His amusement halted when he saw the grim look upon her face.

MOLLY'S POV

The cab ride over to 221B was used to think of all the horrible possibilities that could be waiting for her at the cemetery. Would this body in "Sherlock's" grave be another member of Moriarty's network? Someone she knew? Or worse...an innocent person who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It made her sick to her stomach to think about it. She felt in an odd limbo of wanting to know what was happening and not knowing. She felt something warm take hold of her ice-like palm. She lifted her head to look at Mary, realizing the warmth was coming from Mary's hand as she took hers. The two women wasted no time scrambling from the cab to enter the apartment.

When Molly opened the door, she saw Sherlock laying on the couch with a slight grin on his face. It dropped when he noticed their arrival. John bolted from his swivel chair to greet Mary and place his hand affectionately on her stomach. Molly could see she was trying to look pleased to see him but could tell she was still shaken by the news.

"Molly? What's wrong?" Sherlock called from the couch he was still lounging on.

"I just got a call from Greg. Someone has dug up your grave plot at the cemetery and put a body in it. With the body they found a letter...a letter for me. We have to go, Sherlock."

The "kid in a candy store" look reappeared on his face and he shot up from his couch. "Finally! This is fantastic!"

Molly was about to argue that this wasn't fantastic but was being pulled by her wrist toward the front door.

"We'll just wait here then!" John called out to them as Molly turned her head to wave goodbye to her friends.

***ONE CAB RIDE LATER***

As she struggled to keep up with Sherlock whisking through the cemetery at great stride she began to think about that day again. She had walked this very pathway the day they laid Sherlock's ashes to rest.

**FLASHBACK**

Molly walked side by side with Mrs. Hudson. John was just ahead of her, walking alone. She could see his shoulders shrug up and down as he tried to hide his sobs. It broke her heart in two. Laying a comforting hand on Mrs. Hudson's arm, Molly gave her a warm smile as she picked up her pace to come next to John. Before John could protest to her presence, Molly intertwined her fingers in his, giving him a slight squeeze to make communication. They held hands until the priest had spoken the final words to lay Sherlock Holmes' body to the earth.

Tears streamed down her face, because just for a moment, she had forgotten he wasn't dead. Her breathing became rapid and she couldn't bear to look John in the eyes. She felt him let go of her hand to lay his hands on the tomb stone. It was so eerily quiet in that moment. It was a moment that she knew she would never forget.

"Dr. Hooper."

The voice had startled her. She slowly turned around and held her eyes to meet Mycroft's. The corners of his mouth lifted into a weak smile. His arms raised to grab her shoulders as he tentatively pulled her closer to him. Molly felt shocked by the action but thought it rude to just stand there limp in his arms, so she gently brought her arms to wrap around his waist. He lowered himself down to Molly's ear,

"We'll be in touch, Dr. Hooper."

He loosened his arms from the hug and turned on his heel to meet Anthea, who was waiting for him by an elegant black car. He cast one last glance at Molly before getting in and driving away.

**FLASHBACK OVER**

In her daze, Molly almost tripped over Sherlock. She was so entranced in her memories that she hadn't even noticed he'd stopped. She waited to hear him smart off to her or tell her to watch where she's going but all she heard was silence. She stepped beside him to see he looked completely stunned. She had never seen him look so shocked in her life. She scanned the scene in front of her, trying to figure out the cause. She saw Lestrade, some forensic workers, Sherlock's tomb stone, dirt splattered about. She started to inch closer to look inside the freshly dug hole, but she was restrained by Sherlock's hands. He pulled her back roughly, stepping back in front to shield her.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Molly, I would rather you not see this."

"What are you talking about?" she asked slipping by him, "You of all people know what I do for a livi-" She couldn't finish her sentence. She literally had no words. She can't really recall if she screamed or not, but she is sure she did. Before her lay the corpse of someone she knew, someone she knew very well. Just less than a month ago, she was calling the dead man her fiancé. The grave below her contained the corpse of Tom.

"Oh my God...no...no," she struggled for air, tears clouded her vision, "he can't be dead...it's just not possible. It's my fault. He's dead because of me." She could feel her knees buckle beneath her. She fell to the ground before anyone could catch her.

"The letter!" she cried.

"What?" asked Lestrade.

"The letter, I said give me the letter!"

Sally Donovan approached Molly, handing her a giant plastic baggie with an envelope reading _**"Molly"** _on the inside. She ripped the bag open and ran her hand over the front. Heavy pen strokes were used to write her name, red lettering, very precise.

_'Dear Molly,_

_Well, well, Molly, looks like I wasn't the only man you spurned for Mister Sherlock Holmes. Poor Tom really never had a chance, did he? Sure, he looked like Sherlock, but he could never actually be him, could he Molly? Think about it. That was this man's only fault. He loved you so much and you just threw him away. Now look where it got him._

_You almost chose him, though. I know you did. But, after you found out you were **"the one that mattered most"**, you had a change of heart. Oh yes, I know about that too. That was the moment I knew you were going to die, Molly. Because I can't have someone who means that much to Sherlock walking among the living. It would bring him too much joy. Until next time, my dear._

_XOXO_

_Jim_

_P.S. I think you'll find what's missing from Tom's body quite ironic.'_

Anger seethed within in her as she crumpled the letter with her small hands and dropped it to the ground. She charged in front of the forensics team to get a closer look at the body. What she found missing was "quite ironic".

Through all the blood and tattered clothing, she could see a huge hole cut in the left side of his chest. Moriarty had cut out his heart. All the autopsies in the world could not have prepared Molly for the sight of this. Feeling dizzy she grabbed a nearby tree for balance. She was shook into reality when she heard a pitchy voice coming towards her.

The voice in question belonged to one, Miss Kitty Riley. She shoved and pushed through protesting policemen to make a bee line to Molly.

"Molly Hooper? Kitty Riley! I've seen on John Watson's blog that now that Moriarty has returned he has targeted you, his ex-girlfriend, and friend of Sherlock Holmes. How does that make you feel?"

She rolled her eyes but Kitty pressed on.

"And now, your ex-fiance has been brutally murdered. Is this an act of jealousy?"

Molly tried to walk off and ignore her but Kitty pursued after her.

"Don't you feel any remorse, Miss Hooper?! This man died because of you! I'd just like a quote!"

All the anger that was building up in her snapped at that moment. She whirled around and punched Kitty Riley square in the face, knocking her to the ground.

"How's** that** for your quote?" she asked sarcastically before storming out of the cemetery.

SHERLOCK'S POV

Before following after Molly, Sherlock noticed that a bloody-lipped Kitty Riley was attempting to pick-pocket the crumbled letter from Moriarty that Molly had left on the grass. He snatched it away from her quickly giving her a scary, Grinch-like grin.

"Good day, Miss Riley," he snorted as he turned on his heel to catch up with Molly.


	7. Don't You Ever Doubt My Love For You

A.N. I sincerely apologize. I've been pretty good about getting chapters out quickly but my psychology class has been putting an unexpected amount of pressure on me. Again, I'm sorry for the delay. I tried to make this one a bit longer to make up for my tardiness.

As always, I don't own BBC Sherlock or it's characters.

Molly's POV

It had been two days since she had seen the corpse of her ex-finace laying before her. It had been two days since Molly had been to work, two days since she has eaten, and two days since she has showered. Nothing felt right anymore. The guilt that she took away from this tragedy was almost too much to bear.

She may have broken off her engagement to Tom, but she still loved him, she just was never actually "in love with him". If it were up to Molly, she would never leave the solitude of 221B ever again. She couldn't even imagine how Tom's poor parents felt right now...the parents that treated her kindly. She was sure they hated her now. Hot tears began to rise in her sockets and she rubbed her temple roughly.

Curling up into the fetal position, Molly lowered her head to the arm of the couch and began to sob. Honest to God, sob. She was sure her cries could be heard throughout London. When she had cried her eyes out, she finally fell into a doze. She was awoken when she heard a familiar, "hoo, hoo" toward the entry way. Mrs. Hudson, tray of tea and biscuits in arms, strode across the living room to lay it before Molly.

"I know you're upset Molly, but you have to eat something. John tells me you haven't eaten since...well, you know. It's not healthy." She shoved a cup in Molly's hand followed by a biscuit. But Molly shocked even herself when she leaped from the couch and threw the biscuit back onto the tray.

"Mrs. Hudson! I just can't pretend that none of this ever happened!" she paced back and forth, running her fingers through her hair, "It's all my fault! If I had never met Tom, he would still be alive right now! I caused him so much pain! I broke his heart and now Moriarty actually took his bloody heart! How am I supposed to go on?!"

Mrs. Hudson looked torn. She took her time, as if she were choosing her words carefully, before she spoke.

"Molly, dear. You know that I love you and I am saying this with all the love I can muster: you need time to grieve, I understand that. You almost married this man. But, you listen to me! No matter what anyone says, this is not your fault!" she took Molly by the shoulders, "You had no idea that Jim Moriarty was anything but a sweet Irish fellow from work. God only knows how he survived on that rooftop! You weren't sure that Sherlock would ever return, so you tried to move on. You're allowed to feel, Molly, you're allowed to change your mind. How were you to ever know Moriarty would come back? And most importantly, how were you to know he would pick you as a target?"

Tears began to leak down Molly's cheeks again. She wrapped her arms around Mrs. Hudson and attempted to regulate her breathing. She could feel Mrs. Hudson rub her small hands up and down her back. As Molly began to calm down, Mrs. Hudson held her out at arm's length.

"Now, I want you to go shower for me, eh?"

All Molly could do was nod.

SHERLOCK'S POV

When Sherlock returned to his flat later that night, he noticed it was clean...very clean...too clean. He began to walk around the rooms aimlessly, wondering why in the world everything was so immaculate. The air smelled of bleach and surface cleaner and the wooden floors had been mopped recently. He heard footsteps coming toward John's,_ 'not John's anymore'_, he corrected himself, Molly's room. He decided to go up and investigate, seeing as she was the most probable cause to this weirdness.

Climbing the stairs he heard a faint voice humming a tune he did not know. He tried to stay quiet so he could continue to hear her humming. As he reached her door, he rapped lightly before entering.

"Molly, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Come on in, Sherlock," she answered.

Opening the door, he saw a freshly showered Molly Hooper pulling her hair into a bun. Her room looked recently cleaned as well. Sherlock noticed she was wearing her favorite, faded pajamas. It reminded him of the night she cracked open her book and his note she had been using for a place holder fell out. A part of him felt touched that she would keep something as simple as a note, such a short one at that, but another part couldn't place why. He internally shrugged, _'sentiment', I suppose'._

"May I ask as to why you are cleaning so thoroughly?"

"It's something I do to distract myself...I hope you don't mind," she looked so guilty. He didn't understand why she would feel guilty about cleaning the flat. He studied her face for a moment_. 'Brow furrowed, biting of the lip, eyes swollen from crying'._ He then turned his attention to her body language_. 'Tense, nervous hand movements...ah. Now, I see'._

"No, it's quite fine, Molly. Do you often clean when you are feeling guilty or do you do it to distract other emotions as well?" He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh but she didn't cringe as his words.

"Other emotions too," she sat down near the head of her bed, "but today, guilt is the motivator."

"Molly," he began as he stepped closer to the bed, "you know you have nothing to feel guilty about. You didn't hurt anyone."

"But I did!" she snapped, "it's all my fault! Tom is dead because of me!"

He didn't know what to say at his point. He reached his hand into his jacket pocket to retrieve a folded sheet of paper; Moriarty's most recent letter to Molly that he had snatched before he left the crime scene.

"Please forgive me," he said quietly, "but I read the letter. The bit where he mentioned our conversation in the hall way, when I said...well, you know what I said. I've looked into how he could have found it out."

She lifted her head and shrugged at him, "Any ideas?"

"Actually, yes. Howard Shilcott."

She scrunched her face, "The train client? You can't possi-"

"Oh, yes I can, and do. It may have started out as a client call but it ended in him aiding Moriarty. If I'm right about this, which I'm usually right about most things, the tobogganed client was very much involved in this. I'm not saying the man was a part of Moriarty's network, I'm saying he was black mailed. He mentioned he had a girlfriend when we first arrived and he had a bit of a nervous twitch about him when he spoke of her. I thought nothing of it at the time, but Moriarty has a habit of using what you love against you. There is no doubt in my mind that he's been keeping tabs on me, and I'm sure once he found out you were acting as a "temporary John", he was quick to threaten the life of Howard Shilcott's girlfriend if he did not assist him."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Tried. His landlady said he moved out soon after we had come to see him. She said that he had been acting strange, even for him. Very nervous, always looking around his shoulder. But, alas, she said she has not forwarding address. Hasn't heard from him since the day he moved out."

"How do you think he did it, then?"

"Bugged the hallway, obviously. As you know, being familiar with surveillance tapes is apart of his job, and I'm sure he would have no problems setting up audio devices as well," he stopped pacing to face Molly. She still looked so sad, "I'm not giving up on this, Molly. I'm trying my best to play by his rules, but it's not easy...you know I don't like to follow rules."

The last comment earned him a smirk from Molly. He felt relieved to see her smile a little. When he smile disappeared as quickly as it came something pinged in his stomach. He looked her in the eyes and he saw her, really saw her. The way she could see him when he was sad. The Molly part of his mind palace started to flood his thoughts.

**_'Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means...looking sad when you think no one can see you.'_**

**_Confused by her statement, '...but you can see me.'_**

**_'I don't count,' she answered back almost too quickly._**

As the memory faded he noticed her gaze was now on the ground._ 'She thinks I can't see her,'_ he thought to himself. His mind began screaming at him,_ 'Say something!'_ he pondered,_ 'What can I say to cheer her up?'_ His answer came quickly,_ 'let her know how important she is. Reassure her of how much she counts.'_

"You saved my life, you know," he stated.

"It was nothing, really. Just a few lies on an autopsy," was her answer.

"That's not what I mean."

"I don't understand," her doe-like brown eyes were fixated on him.

_**'What do you need?'**_ her words echoed in his head, "When I was shot, I only had a few seconds in my mind palace to decide what to do...how to survive. You helped me live."

She looked even more confused now, "Sherlock, I was at work when you were shot. How could I possibly have saved your life?"

"You weren't there physically, no, but apparently I associate you with survival. The moment the bullet ripped through me you were at my side, telling me what I needed to do. You slapped me, made me focus. You told me what direction to fall, backward, which would give me a higher possibility to live. You walked behind me and told me to fall back and I did without any hesitation. You were with me every step of the way. Made me control the pain. So, yes, maybe you weren't physically there saving my life, but you saved it nonetheless."

She was quiet for a moment. "You said you read the letter?"

"Yes. I did. But, it's a good thing I snatched it or all of London would be reading it with the help of Kitty Riley."

"So you know?"

He didn't know exactly what part she was referring to. "Know what?"

"Why I broke off the engagement with Tom."

He felt dumbfounded. He knew...of course he knew. He didn't have to read it in Moriarty's letter to know. She loved him. She honest to God loved him and he had no idea why. He knew he should say something at this moment but no words could properly form. Before he knew it, she spoke again.

"I know you know," she didn't shy away like he expected her to, " you just don't want to hurt my feelings. I'll just say it out loud then...I broke off my engagement to Tom, because you came back. Some silly part of me felt our conversation in that hallway meant something more than it actually did. I thought that maybe you could love me, that, that was your way of telling me you had feelings for me, but I was wrong. I love you so desperately that it hurts, Sherlock. My love for you has caused me so much grief, but after all the grief I still want your love so badly that it's sad, really. Because I see you for all that you really are. Yes, you're brilliant and beautiful, but there is so much more to you. You help so many people, despite what people may think you are one of the most selfless human beings I know. You are a good man."

His heart beat so fast in his chest he feared he may go into cardiac arrest. He couldn't tear his eyes off of her. He felt full of disbelief. The most kind and selfless woman he knows was sitting here, telling him that he was a good man._ 'How can that be possible?'_ he asked himself,_ 'after all that I've done to her over the years, how can she still sing praises about me?'_ It made him angry. He wanted to shout at her for being so selfless. Before he knew it, she was very close to his face, her eyes never breaking contact with his.

"How can you have such love for me? I don't deserve your love," he whispered.

"That is the farthest from the truth...you deserve every bit of love that I have for you!" she responded in a shouted whisper, "Don't you ever say you don't deserve my love! Don't you ever doubt my love for you!"

He suddenly felt her wrap her arms around his neck. Unsure what to do at first, he let his arms hover until he decided to lay them at the small of her back. He could feel her slowly kiss his neck, making a trail to his cheek. He was sure Molly could hear his heart. This was a situation he wasn't used to. Sure, he had faked a few kisses here and there with Janine, but this was something totally different. Janine's kisses were lust filled and uncaring, Molly's were genuine. She gently placed her lips upon his and his head began to spin.

Then, something didn't feel right. His lips felt cold, as did his arms. He opened his eyes to see Molly had broken from his embrace and was looking at him sadly, biting her lip as she did so.

"I shouldn't have done that. I apologize, Sherlock. I hope you can forgive me."

He had never felt so frustrated in his life. Here she was, apologizing for loving him. He shocked himself with his own response.

"You told me to never doubt your love for me."

"Yes." It seemed like all she could muster to say.

"Then, don't you ever apologize for loving me."

She looked taken aback, "Sherlo-" She was cut off by Sherlock grabbing the back of her neck and closing his lips around hers. She grabbed ahold of his knee to steady herself by the surprise. He still had his hand wrapped protectively around her neck. He could feel the moonlight on his face by the window as he brought his other hand to lay on top of Molly's. When they broke apart they remained close together, forehead to forehead, breathing heavily and holding each others gaze.

Before either of them could speak they heard a spine tingling scream come from downstairs. The voice screaming belonged to Mrs. Hudson. Grabbing Molly by the hand, Sherlock rushed downstairs to find out the cause of her cries.

"Sherlock!"

"Mrs. Hudson!" he yelled back in return.

"Hurry, Sherlock!"

Upon their arrival to the elderly woman's flat, they quickly discovered what had caused such a fit.

"...no," Sherlock could hear Molly say beside him.

Mrs. Hudson fled to bury her face into Sherlock's chest and he felt Molly tighten her grip on his hand. Before them was the dead body of Howard Shilcott, stuffed into Mrs. Hudson's closet. His flapped toboggan was firmly grasped in his hand, and inside was an envelope.


	8. Let's Play I Spy

A.N. Much thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and faved so far. The support is incredible.

As always, I in no way own BBC Sherlock or it's characters. Entertainment purposes only.

Molly's POV

Molly sat huddled in a chair in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. Police and forensic workers were parading all over the flat and everything was beginning to feel overwhelming. She felt a sudden warmth against her body. She craned her neck to see that John had placed a blanket over her shoulders. Only then did she notice that she was trembling. He took the seat beside her and rubbed his face with his hands in frustration.

"This is the third one, Molls. What are we gonna do?" He obviously wasn't actually asking her because he thought she had a solution, but the question stuck with her.

"We could just tell him to come and get me. Make all of this quicker."

John's head shot up from his hands. "Molly, stop that! Just, stop it. Don't you dare give up!"

Tears began to fill her eyes as she lunged forward to bury her face in John's shoulder. It reminded her of the day of Sherlock's funeral, when she had consoled his cries. She could faintly hear him reciting words of encouragement as she continued to sob. It killed her that she had been crying so much lately, but a person can only take so much.

"Molly," she heard a voice call her name from behind, "we need to talk to you."

She reluctantly let go of John to turn her gaze to Greg Lestrade. She followed him into the living room. He motioned her to take a seat next to Sherlock. Their close proximity was the last thing she wanted at this moment, but nonetheless, there they were. He scooted slightly to make room for her on the small loveseat, stiffening at their contact.

"I obviously know that neither of you had anything to do with this, but I still have to get your alibi. Where you were when this happened, and what you were doing when Mrs. Hudson screamed for help, etc. You get the drill. Okay, Molly you start."

She gulped. She really didn't want to discuss the private moment she had just had with Sherlock. She decided to be as subtle as she could. "I was in my bedroom. Sherlock came in to visit me and then we heard Mrs. Hudson scream."

Lestrade raised an eyebrow at her. "Molly, you okay? You seem a bit flustered."

She lifted her hand to her cheek. It was, in fact, quite hot. She was also sure her face was crimson.

Sherlock sighed, "She's just embarrassed Detective Inspector."

"Embarrassed?"

"Yes," he took a gulp of air, "before Mrs. Hudson's cries I went up to Molly's room to inform her that I had discovered Howard Shilcott had been spying on us for Moriarty. Obviously he wasn't a part of his network, but was being black mailed into helping him. I also informed Molly that I had read the latest letter she had received from Moriarty. She then concluded that I knew why she had broken off her engagement to Tom. She then admitted that she is in love with me, which I already knew before the letter. Then she kissed me but soon pulled away and began to apologize. I felt frustrated that she apologized and proceeded to kiss her back. Then Mrs. Hudson started screaming, we rushed down to her flat where we found the dead body of Howard Shilcott. And now, here we are."

Molly felt the urge to slap him again as she looked at the smug face of Sherlock Holmes and the shocked face of Greg Lestrade. Anger rising within her, she quickly removed herself from the loveseat and stormed out the flat into the cool night air.

SHERLOCK'S POV

_'Why is she so angry?'_ he asked himself. _'All I did was tell the truth.' _He got up to follow after her but was stopped by Lestrade before he could get to the door.

"Wait," he shoved an envelope in Sherlock's hand, "and this time, don't read it."

Molly's POV

Molly heard footsteps close behind her and her name being called several times. She wished her legs could carry her faster. He was the last person on this Earth she wanted to talk to in this moment. But, of course, it wasn't long before she felt a hand grab her wrist and turn her around to face him.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she sneered.

"Because there is a criminal mastermind targeting you."

She glared at him, "Why would you do that?"

He cocked his head, "I don't understand. I only told the truth."

"Yes, but...but," she groaned and took a seat on some nearby steps, "I don't even know why I'm upset with you," she admitted.

"Because I shared such an intimate moment with our friend, maybe?" he offered.

"No. You were only telling the truth. You're right."

"But there is something obviously upsetting you."

She knew what it was but she just didn't want to have to explain it to him. "I think I'm upset because it didn't mean anything to you."

"Didn't mean anything," he parroted.

"Yeah, you said you felt frustrated and kissed me. It makes me think you kissed me to shut me up. You didn't want to hear my stuttering apologies anymore."

He was still and quiet. He put his hands to his mouth the way he did when he went to his mind palace, but something about his face told her that he wasn't there. She felt defeated. She just needed to get him home and try to forget any of this ever happened. She would tell him to forget it, he'll delete it, and life will go on.

"Didn't. Mean. Anything." he repeated.

"Sherlock, it's okay, really. It was a weird moment. I get it. Let's get you home and when you get there, you can delete everything about that moment. Guilt free, I promise."

She moved to get up but Sherlock took hold of her wrist again and dragged her to sit back down. He just stared at her. Every time she tried to take her wrist back he wouldn't budge.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

He let go of her wrist and bolted up to loom over her. "How could you think that, that didn't mean anything to me? Do you know how many people just waltz in and say," he mimicked her voice, **_"Sherlock, you're a good man",_ **he stopped to hold her gaze and returned his voice back to normal, "none. No one says that to me. I'm always a "freak", or a "show off", or "crazy" to everyone else. Everyone but you. I'm not good with feelings or emotions, Molly. I don't know how to properly care for another person."

"I don't care," she shouted as she stood in front of him. "I've never wanted you to be the perfect gentleman. I've always wanted you to be you." Her heart exploded when he crashed his lips onto hers for the second time that night. She let her hands trail up to his coat collar, pulling him closer to her. She didn't want to overwhelm him, so after a moment she slowly detached her lips from his. She smiled at him and he shocked her by giving her a genuine smile in return.

"So, what is this?" he asked, gesturing between himself and her.

"I'm not sure," she answered, "but we'll figure it out."

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I think we should get back to Baker Street, check on Mrs. Hudson."

She nodded in agreement and took his hand. As they were walking he halted and reached into his jacket pocket, revealing an envelope.

"I almost forgot. Lestrade gave this to me to give to you."

***BACK AT BAKER STREET***

Molly and Sherlock were up all night, watching over a very shaken Mrs. Hudson. Molly glanced over at the clock at one point and realized she had to be at work in about an hour. She excused herself to go and get ready. As she was shrugging on her lab coat, she glanced over at the envelope that she had forgotten to read.

Sucking in air and sitting down on her bed, she decided to get it over with:

_'Molly,_

_ Let's play "I spy", shall we? Bet you weren't expecting Howard Shilcott to do my bidding, now were you? **But he's not the only one.** You better watch your back Molly, because I see **everything**. I will ruin your life so much, that when the time comes, you'll be begging me to end you. That's all for now, love._

_XOXO_

_Jim'_


	9. Hat Detective's Latest Conquest

**A.N. I couldn't find a last name for Tom anywhere. He may actually have a last name, but I do not know it/can't find it. So I just used Ed Birch's last name, since he plays him. So for the sake of the story, he is Tom Birch :)**

Molly's POV

Molly gracefully strode down the hallways towards the canteen to pick up some lunch. After a long morning of autopsies and paperwork, she was more than ready for some grub. As she took her place in line, she felt that something didn't feel quite right. Glancing around the room, she couldn't help but notice that everyone she tried to make eye contact with avoided her gaze.

_'Odd,'_ she thought.

Thinking maybe it was just her imagination she continued on with her day. That is until her boss, Mike Stamford popped into the lab to visit her that afternoon.

"Molly, glad to see you're back to work. Been worried about you."

Her face lifted into a smile, "Thank you. It's good to see you too, Mike. Is there something I can do for you?"

He suddenly became very interested in his feet. "And Sherlock...how's he doing?" he asked sheepishly, trying not to look at her.

"Sherlock's good...why do you ask?"

He cleared his throat, "I suppose you've noticed everyone acting a little distant today."

"Yes, I have, actually."

He brought a newspaper from behind his back and began fiddling with it nervously.

"Mike," Molly started, "what's going on? What's with the newspaper?"

"Molly, I don't want to get you upset...but I think you should see this." He held out the paper for her to examine. Flattening it out, she couldn't believe her eyes. There she was! On the front page, snogging Sherlock Holmes.

"Oh no," was all she could get out. The title read:

**Hat Detective's Latest Conquest**

She began to read the article aloud to Mike Stamford, who seemed to be bracing himself for her reaction.

"Fresh off his broken engagement, Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, has been snogging on St. Bart's pathologist Molly Hooper. Dr. Hooper has become the target of criminal mastermind James Moriarty's triumphant return from the dead. Hooper, who was once the girlfriend of Moriarty, is fresh out of her own engagement from Tom Birch. Birch fell victim to Moriarty just under a week ago. Three days after his death, Molly Hooper has been spotted getting cozy with Sherlock Holmes, which leaves this journalist to wonder if there is any remorse for this poor man's death? Don't you think it's a bit too soon to move on, Dr. Hooper?

Article by: Kitty Riley"

Moriarty's words reappeared in her mind, **_"Let's play I Spy",_** she felt furious,**_ "He's not the only one. You better watch your back Molly, because I see everything."_**

She snatched her phone out of her coat pocket to text Sherlock:

_'Have you seen the paper today?'_

_~Molly_

"I'm terribly sorry, Molly. I know you feel remorse over Tom's passing...and besides, he wasn't even your fiance when he died!" Mike said hopefully, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Her anger ceased when she looked into the man's eyes. He has always been there for her every time she needed him. She smiled weakly and handed the paper back to him.

"Thank you, Mike. At least I have one friend in this hospital."

"Hell to what those people out there think. You're a wonderful human being Molly and I am happy for you. You've been in love with Sherlock for years. Bout time the guy came round. I know you feel sad that Tom is gone, but we both know your heart was never fully in it. You were hurting him more when you were with him."

Somehow the words stung and helped at the same time. She felt as though tears would begin to fall but they never did.

"Why don't you head on out for the day, eh? Not too much going on here."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, dear. Go on home. I've got everything under control here."

Even though she hadn't been to work in a few days, she felt relieved to be going home. At least before people ignored her for no reason other than she was quiet. Now, they ignored her because they hated her. Hauling on her coat and grabbing her purse she exited the lab. There were a few nurses standing outside of the morgue, gossiping. Much to Molly's dismay, the topic was her.

"Did you see what that Tom guy looked like? He was a total babe. If I were her, I wouldn't have gotten too picky."

Molly cleared her throat and glared at them. "Excuse me," she said quietly as she attempted to pass through their cluster to leave the hospital.

Suddenly a red-headed nurse stopped in front of her with crossed arms. She was the only nurse Molly knew out of the group. Her name was Quinn, and she was well-known for her skills on a mattress. "Hold up, Miss Molly! Where are you going in such a rush?"

"Home. I'm done for the day," she said dismissively.

"What'd you do? Bat your eyes at Stamford so you can go home to your hunky detective?" inquired the nurse with a pixie haircut.

"No."

"Sure. Hard to believe that mousey little Molly Hooper could be such a hussy," chirped the brunette.

"He's not been dead a week, Molly. I'm not even that bad," said Quinn.

Molly, feeling angry, threw daggers at her, "You act as if he were still my fiancé when he died. He wasn't! We had broken up before that and before we broke up, we were distant for months. Don't you dare act as if my romantic life is your business. You're just jealous that you tried your best to flirt with Sherlock but he wouldn't give you the time of day."

"That is not true!" she defended.

"Actually," came a deep baritone, "I can vouch that Dr. Hooper's statement is 100% true."

They were all taken aback by Sherlock's sudden arrival. Molly pushed by the women to stand by his side. He placed his hand on the small of her back and twisted his mouth into a wicked grin.

"Now, if you'll excuse us ladies, we have somewhere we need to be," he whirled Molly around with him as he turned to leave, "oh and by the way," he called over his shoulder, "congratulations on the baby Quinn!" As they exited, Molly could hear the panic-stricken screams of Quinn in the background.

"So," she began as they approached the sidewalk to haul a cab, "do we actually have somewhere to be or were you just trying to get us out of there?"

"We do have somewhere we need to be. I had just finished reading the newspaper when I got your text."

A cab stopped and they got in. Sherlock gave the cabbie an address that she did not know. They hadn't been alone since they had come back to Baker Street to take care of Mrs. Hudson. She felt an internal struggle while she was sitting so close to him. She wanted to rest her hand upon his but didn't want to rush anything.

"Go ahead, Molly."

She furrowed her brow a bit, but eventually just clasped her hand over his as she gazed out the window as rain began to slush against it. His hand was like ice and was rough due to years of wear. She moved her thumb over his palm and he eased into her touch, tightening his grip on her fingers.

"Where are we going?"

"To Kitty Riley's flat."

"What? Why?"

"She's obviously next on Moriarty's list. I have no doubt in my mind that he's roped her into helping him like last time. As much as I loathe the woman, I can't just sit back and know she's in danger and not do anything to prevent it."

As much as she wanted to argue, she knew she couldn't. This was somebody's life hanging in the balance and she was so sick of all the death. She leaned her head back against the window and closed her eyes.

"That can't possibly be comfortable," Sherlock stated, " you may lean your head upon me if you wish to rest your eyes. It's a bit of a drive, I'll wake you when we get there."

Hesitantly she leaned into his shoulder. It surprised her when he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. It made her sick to her stomach to think that she was getting all she ever dreamed of as a result of all these horrible things. But, she tried to push these things aside as she listened to Sherlock's breathing, eventually falling into sleep.


	10. Guess Who's Back?

Molly's POV

Molly was rudely awakened by the cab's sudden halt in front of Kitty Riley's apartment building. Sherlock threw notes at the driver and quickly removed himself from the cab, glancing behind him to make sure Molly was in fact keeping up. She sometimes hated his long legs. It made it harder to keep up with him when he was determined to get somewhere.

Three flights of stairs later, they came face to face with a locked door. A door that would not stay locked, she discovered, as Sherlock began picking away at it desperately. After a moment she heard it click open and she followed him into the horrid woman's flat. She felt morally wrong being there without permission, but then she remembered the article and suddenly it felt so right.

Flicking on a switch, Sherlock flopped down on the couch and crossed his arms. She took a place beside him. She still felt unresolved about where they stood and it bothered her._ 'Now's not the time to discuss such things'_, she told herself,_ 'focus, Molly!'_

"So, what is the plan, exactly?"she questioned, not breaking her eye contact with the wall.

"Well, the**_ "break into Kitty's flat"_ **part worked out quite nicely. I suppose now we wait for her to return home, question her, then hand her over to Scotland Yard for protection."

"Sounds good."

"Molly."

"Yes, Sherlock."

He sighed, "What's on your mind? You're obviously wracking your brain over there."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. _'Why does he always have to know everything? Just go for it.'_

"Honestly, there isn't an easy way for me to put this, Sherlock. You know absolutely everything about how I feel about you, but I know nothing of how you feel about me. I don't exactly know where we stand."

"How I feel about you? Where we stand?"

"Yes."

He took a large breath, "I don't want to lie to you, Molly. I respect you too much for that. I care about you very much. I'm not a man who indulges in sentiment. As I've told you before there are few people in this world I truly care about and you are one of them. But, not all the people I care about fit into the same category. You do not fit into family. That is mainly a territory for my parents and Mrs. Hudson. Oddly, you do not fit into the friend category either. John, Lestrade, and Mary reside there."

She felt intrigued. This could either got badly or splendidly for her, "Oh?"

"You seem to rule one category on your own...a category I didn't even know I had. I do not know if I am capable of "being in love" but I do know I am capable of caring for you. So, if you're asking if I have feelings for you beyond friendship then the answer is, yes. My question to you is, are you okay with that? Would you still want to be with me?"

No hesitation, "Yes."

He looked confused. "You didn't even think about it."

"I didn't have to."

"Can I really be enough for you?"

"You'll always be enough for me." It was Molly's turn to do the kissing this time. She lunged for him and ran her fingers through his dark curls. She sucked on his bottom lip and raked her hands through his scalp. He dug his fingers into her hips in return, growling when she tugged at his locks.

"What the hell?!"

They tore apart quickly to look up at a rightfully shocked Ms. Riley. Molly could tell Sherlock couldn't help but start observing her when she came fully into his gaze.

"Hello Kitty. Looks like you just came from a hair cut," she looked horrified, "Oh don't look so shocked, even a fool could deduce that. Bits of hair on the front of your top and around your neck."

"What are you two doing in my flat?"

He gave her a wicked grin, "Looks like somebody finally bought herself a new, posh skirt. About time."

"You didn't answer my question."

"We're here about your article. It made the front page, you must be ecstatic."

She glared at him, "I would if I were the one who wrote it."

Molly, feeling angry, snatched the copy of the newspaper Sherlock had brought with him from her bag and shoved it in Kitty's face. "Well if you didn't write it," she shouted, "then why is your bloody name all over it?!"

Kitty put herself face to face with Molly, their eyes only a few inches apart. "I'd like to know that myself," she spit acidly.

"You can't honestly think for one moment I would believe anything you say? Need I remind you that I bloodied your nose because you were badgering to write an article about me."

"She's telling the truth, Molly." Both women whipped their heads in the consulting detective's direction. Molly shot him a questioning look. "When Kitty lies, she averts her gaze toward the left and her right hands twitch slightly. She has done neither since her arrival."

"I would love to know who did write that article, though," she sighed, slumping into her arm-chair, "git nearly cost me my job."

Guilt and compassion rising within her, Molly gave the woman a sympathetic smile before returning to her spot next to Sherlock. She never could hold a grudge, and sometimes she hated that about herself.

"So, no idea who it could be?" she asked shyly.

"None. All the security cameras in the building where destroyed when everyone got to work this morning. Boss called me in his office demanding to know why I published that article and I had no idea what he was talking about. I haven't been in town since the day I saw you two at the grave site. I've been at my mother's home taking care of her. She's very ill."

Molly knew what having a sick parent was like. She had never known her mother, but she had watched her father die. Cancer was a sickening thing to witness and she prayed she would never have to see anyone else she loved go through that. She felt sick at her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to go home. She tried to be polite and listen as Kitty went on, but she was exhausted. A female erotic moan coming from Sherlock's direction is what snapped her back into reality. She hadn't heard that tone since the Christmas party years ago. She glanced over at Sherlock who read his phone with a disgusted look upon his face. He quickly typed back and grabbed Molly by the wrist, pulling her from the couch.

"Sorry to cut the visit so short, Ms. Riley, but I believe I just found out who wrote that article."

Molly shrugged in Kitty's direction as she was being forced out of the door. Once outside she tugged her wrist away from Sherlock's grasp and stood in front of him, preventing him from flagging a cab.

"What was that about? Who was that text from? I recognized the tone from the Christmas party."

He seemed to downcast his eyes at the mention of the Christmas party. "We're going back to Baker Street, the person who wrote the article is already there, waiting for us."

As a cab pulled up next to them, Sherlock began to usher her in, "And just who is this author?"

Getting in beside her, "The Woman."

She furrowed her brow, "The Woman?"

He sighed and turned his attention towards the window, "Better known to you as Irene Adler."


	11. Dinner For Three?

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I wanted to take a different spin on the whole Molly/Irene relationship. Notes at the end as well! All Molly's POV this chapter**!

###

"I'm sorry, but did you say Irene Adler? The late Irene Adler?"

Sherlock attempted to avoid her eyes, "Turns out she's not so late, after all."

Molly opened her mouth but didn't respond. The more she thought about it, the less it actually shocked her. It seemed everyone around her who dies isn't actually dead in the long run. Suddenly she began to laugh, earning her a confused look from Sherlock.

"What on Earth is so amusing?"

Attempting to control her laugher, she waved her hand dismissively, "Does no one actually die anymore?"

Sherlock snorted laughter in response, "It would seem not, Dr. Hooper."

"God, I'm lucky I'm not out of a job!"

#####

As the cab made its stop in front of Baker Street, Molly began to feel a tad nervous. Despite all the morbid things that were occurring around her, the cab ride back to 221B had been in good spirits. She began to remember more about the Christmas that Irene Adler had "died." She recalled that Sherlock knew who Irene was by trailing his eyes up and down her naked form. She recalled him x-raying her phone, and how sad he looked after her passing. She couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. And the fact that he called her _The Woman_, made her feel insecure.

She trudged up the stairs behind Sherlock, preparing herself to be face to face with the real Irene Adler for the first time. She noticed that Sherlock hesitated before turning the door knob and take an uneasy breath. She could feel the dread rising through her body. She had one thought running through her head_, 'this cannot end good for you, Molly.'_

Passing through the door way, she saw a tall, slender, but shapely woman looking out the window of 221B. Her hair was in a perfect bun and she wore a tight emerald dress with black stockings and high heels. She was the most beautiful woman Molly had ever seen and she hadn't even faced them yet.

"Stop that," the woman in front of the window said.

Molly shot a look at Sherlock, who shrugged, oblivious to The Woman's words as well. Molly shocked herself by responding so confidently, "I'm sorry? Stop what?"

The Woman turned around to face them. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at Molly. "Stop comparing yourself to me. My dear, you have nothing to feel insecure about."

She felt taken aback. She was never good at taking any kind of compliment, she could feel her cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. This was definitely not going the way she had thought.

"Honestly, Sherlock, do you not ever compliment the poor girl?" she inquired, approaching Molly, raking her gaze up and down, "I know I would remind her everyday how beautiful she is."

Sherlock arched a brow at the woman's actions. Molly, unsure of what to say or do, just continued to look back and forth between the two. Irene tore her eyes from Molly to whisper in Sherlock's ear, just loud enough for Molly to hear.

"She's delectable, it's getting late….I think we should all have dinner." Her smile was smug and her eyes sparkled.

"That's enough, Woman," he spat venomously, "we're not here to have dinner, we're here to ask you what your involvement is in all of this. Though I'm sure I've already figured it out."

Her smug smiled turned into a smirk, "Oh, I'm sure you have, but I'll explain it anyway," she began as she walked past Molly, grabbing her hand in the process, "do sit next to me, dear. Sherlock is not being good company."

Molly obliged, still unsure of what to make of this whole situation. She sat next to Irene, ignoring the disapproval on Sherlock's face. He eventually moved to sit in front of them on his chair.

"It's all part of the game, Sherlock," Irene started, "I relocated to America shortly after you saved my life. I got involved with some powerful people. Moriarty found me of course. Wasn't too happy to see me again either. He offered me a choice: help him or ruin me. He told me he needed help burning the heart out of you; I assumed he wanted me to go after John Watson. You can imagine my surprise when he informed me of your involvement with Dr. Hooper. I just did as I was instructed."

Sherlock looked as though he was about to speak but Irene interrupted him, "But, it should be obvious to you, Mr. Holmes, where my loyalty truly lies. Otherwise, I would not be here."

"Regardless," Sherlock retorted, "what is in it for you? This confession of loyalty? Moriarty got what he wanted, you could have just continued on with your life, but you came here."

"Because Moriarty wanted more from me, and instead I came here."

Sherlock glared, but Molly stared at The Woman. She was always good at reading people. And something about Irene Adler's words seemed genuine to Molly. "I believe her," she said.

"Really?" Both Irene and Sherlock asked simultaneously. Though Sherlock's had a bit of sarcasm to it.

"Yes, I do. She's obviously putting herself in danger by being here if Moriarty still requires her assistance," Molly shrugged, "She's not what I expected."

"People rarely are, Dr. Hooper," Irene said crossing her legs, "I have completely underestimated you."

"You'd be surprised how often that seems to happen," Sherlock's baritone cut through the women's conversation.

Molly again looked to Sherlock, who was texting rather rapidly, "I have absolutely every reason not to trust you Miss Adler," he said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

"Why are you texting your brother, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked.

"Just in case of the off chance that you aren't playing us for idiots. I'm sure my brother is capable of having someone babysit you until this is all over. If what you say is true, and you are on our side as opposed to Moriarty's, then he will make proper arrangements to ensure your safety in the future."

"Thank you, Sherlock," she purred, "but before all of that, what do you say to dinner for three?" Her ruby lips were turned up into a wicked grin.

Molly heard heavy footsteps coming from behind her, followed by the opening of the front door. "Sherlock, I got your mes-, " John Watson stopped dead in his tracks as he stumbled upon the scene. Molly quickly deduced that John had no idea that Irene Adler was in fact, not dead. She saw him look back and forth among the three of them, mouth slightly agape.

He threw his hands up in the air in defeat, "Is death just a myth, then? Does no one actually bloody die anymore?"

Irene stood from where she was sitting to cross the room to look out the window again, "No, Dr. Watson, I assure you, death is all too real," her voice sounded sad as she spoke.

"How long have you known she was alive?" John asked Sherlock.

Sherlock just sighed in response.

Before John could continue to interrogate Sherlock, his phone began to ring. Answering it, Molly noted the slightly panicked expression on his face. She looked at him with concern.

"John, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"It's Mary," he breathed, "she's going into labor…I'm going to be a father."

"Well of course you're going to be a father, I thought you would know that given the fact that she has been pregnant for nine months," Sherlock pointed out sarcastically.

"Not good, Sherlock!" Molly scolded, "Let's move, people!"

Sherlock removed himself from his chair and approached The Woman, "I suggest you not go anywhere, Miss Adler. Someone should be here for you soon."

"Where am I to go, Sherlock?"

He didn't answer her, he just turned on his heels and joined Molly and John as they descended down the staircase.

While outside flagging down a cab, Molly looked up to see Irene watching them from the window. It reminded her of the day in the lab when she told Sherlock she knew he was sad. The Woman looked sad, and Molly could see it. She not only saw sadness, she also saw fear. The look on Irene Adler's face is what told Molly that she could be trusted. She was risking her own safety to defy a mad man. That is when Molly knew that Irene Adler was not a bad person, not really. Getting into the cab, Molly hoped that this wasn't the last she would see of The Woman.

**A/N: I have always thought that Molly and Irene would make great friends. If they bring The Woman back in series 4, I'd love to see that happen!**


	12. Defining Us

**A/N: Inspiration struck! I am almost halfway done with the next chapter! Will hopefully be up in the next few days. Make sure to read my note at the bottom! Important!**

###

When they arrived at the hospital, the gang was told that it wouldn't be long before baby Watson would be arriving. John was taken back to Mary by a nurse, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone in the waiting room. Neither spoke a word for a long time. The silence was killing Molly and she knew she should say something, anything to ease the tension that was crowding the room. She knew what she wanted to talk to him about, but she was afraid of upsetting him.

"Ask the question, Molly," he hummed, breaking the silence.

She swallowed hard and focused on her shoes, "What does Irene mean when she says dinner?"

"Exactly what you think it means."

She took a shaky breath, she had been afraid of that. She hesitated before asking her next question, but she had to know, "Have you and Irene….I mean to say, did you two ever…..have dinner?"

He sighed the way he did when he found something tedious, but his demeanor softened when he looked from the wall into her eyes, "No, Molly. Miss Adler and I have never had dinner. Not that she didn't try, that is."

She wanted to assure him, "Even if you did, that's fine. You're past is none of my business. I just remember how distraught you were after that Christmas she died. I just thought, that maybe, you two had, had something. Sorry, I'm not trying to pry."

"I'd be lying Molly, if I had said I had felt nothing for her. She intrigued me in a way I had never been intrigued before. I would not have gone so far as to call it love, but she did fascinate me. But, her untrustworthy nature was something I could never get past."

"Understandable," was all Molly could manage to say. More silence fell after this. It was becoming too much to bear_. 'To hell with it!'_ she told herself.

"What are we, Sherlock? What is this? I know I was the one who said we would talk about this later, but I just can't bear it anymore. You say you have feelings for me, but I look at the woman you had feelings for in the past and I am nothing like her. You acted so indifferent toward me for so long. What exactly has changed?"

He looked at her somewhat bewildered. She wasn't sure what she expected him to say, she had laid a lot out there for discussion. It startled her when he began to speak with rapid speed.

"You are correct, Molly Hooper. But, to my credit, I act indifferent toward everyone. I am aware that I have been horrible to you in the past, but I assure you that absolutely nothing has changed. I have always trusted you, had the utmost respect for you. I have often said that I unaware of the beautiful, but that is not always quite true. I see beauty, but I do not appreciate it. I've always seen how beautiful you are. Always admired how you hum while you work, thinking that I am not paying you any attention. How you talk to the bodies you cut into, though to others you would seem a bit strange, I find it endearing. The feelings have always been there, but I've always suppressed what I feel in order to focus on the work. As to you not being like Irene Adler, I would not want you to. I want you to be clumsy, ridiculous, sweet, caring Molly Hooper. The feelings have been harder and harder to fight since my return from the dead. I am a weary man, Molly. I do not want to fight them any longer. I have always disliked the word boyfriend, so I will let you decide a title."

Her heart hammered in her chest. That was quite a confession. She had expected him to play it off cool and make her fight a little to get more of an answer out of him. But, here he was, giving her exactly what she wanted. A small smile crept on her face as she recalled the sweet words he had just sang.

She thought, "Well, we could use terms such as 'partner' or 'significant other'. They give the allusion of being in a monogamous relationship without using the words 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend'."

He nodded in agreement. She felt horrible, but she had one more thing she wanted to discuss before they could be interrupted, "Look, Sherlock. I just want you to know, that I will stay with you no matter what, alright?"

He arched an eyebrow, "Alright?"

"What I mean to say is," she cleared her throat and began to blush, "it's alright if you never want to….have dinner with me. Some people just don't like to or don't feel comfortable, having dinner….and that is perfectly fine. Contrary to popular belief, having dinner isn't what makes a relationship work." She scolded herself silently, because that sounded better in her head.

"I'm quite aware of that, Molly."

'_Oh God, way to go, Molly'_, "Oh, um, well. Good, that's good."

"Molly," he began in that tone of warning Molly had begun to hate, "one day, Molly."

She thought maybe she hadn't heard right, "I'm sorry?"

"I said we'll have dinner one day. I'd just rather put it on the back burner while your life is in danger."

She was sure her smile looked awkward and off-putting but she really didn't care, she leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Ahem," a voice sounded from the waiting room entrance. A cheeky John Watson gave his friends a knowing look, "I almost forgot about the article. We'll talk about this later, you two. For now, come and meet the newest addition to the Baker Street family."

They followed John down a long hallway, dodging nurses and doctors as they ran about. They came to the last door on the left and entered. Molly saw a very exhausted looking Mary, cradling a small bundle wrapped in blankets. As they approached the bed, Molly could see the beautiful Watson baby, looking very content in her mother's arms.

"Everyone, this is Elizabeth Sherri Watson. We'll probably call her Lizzie for short," John explained.

"Sherri?" Sherlock questioned, but Molly could see the expectant glee on his face.

"Mary's idea," said John, "supposed that was as close to Sherlock we could get for a girl. Plus it rhymes with her name. She likes that too."

Though he tried to keep up his cool façade, Molly could see the absolute joy in Sherlock's eyes as he peered down at Lizzie.

"Would you like to hold her, Sherlock?" Mary asked.

"Oh, I don't think that would be a good idea…." He trailed off as John placed Elizabeth in his arms anyway. He looked nervous and Molly had never seen the great Sherlock Holmes nervous before. It was actually kind of cute, she thought. Molly went to stand next to Sherlock and pushed the blanket aside enough to stroke the infant's tiny arm. When she looked up at Sherlock, she couldn't help but feel that something about the moment they were sharing with the child felt right. She wondered if he felt it too…..probably not.

Her moment was ruined by the British government himself. Mycroft Holmes tapped his umbrella against the hospital room door as a signal to his arrival. "Hello, all. I hope I'm not interrupting this terribly domestic moment?"

"Of course you are," John answered a bit bitterly, taking Lizzie from Sherlock's arms so he could deal with his brother.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked not too politely.

"Tsk, tsk little brother. Why so vile, today? I was hoping I could speak to you outside for a moment?" He asked as he turned to leave, giving Sherlock no choice but to follow him. Before he exited the room completely he called back, "You as well, Dr. Hooper!"

Molly scrunched up her face in resistance but followed anyway. She could only imagine what Mycroft could have to say to her, nothing good she was sure. He sat in the waiting room that they had just came from and crossed his legs, motioning for them to take a seat across from him.

Molly sighed, and Mycroft took notice, "Why so distressed Dr. Hooper?"

"You know why," she answered.

"Oh," he said knowingly, "you think I'm here to tell you that your relationship with my little brother is a bad idea? That you two should end it. That he will only break your heart and sentiment is a downfall?"

"Yes, something along those lines."

He scoffed, "Hardly. I don't see an immediate concern. You seem to keep him lined out and away from drugs. I don't really see the benefit of the sentiment Sherlock seems to dabble in nowadays but to each his own. I'm just glad I won't have to babysit him as much. And Mummy will be most pleased to hear the news. She adores you, Dr. Hooper."

Sherlock scowled, "I don't need a babysitter, Mycroft."

"I beg to differ," he responded, rolling his eyes.

"What then, brother mine, do you want?"

"I see that Irene Adler has returned from the dead…..and you wish for me to keep an eye on her?"

"That is correct."

"I have men watching her at Baker Street now, we will move her to a more secure location later this evening. Someplace where she will be watched round the clock, ensuring she doesn't try to get clever."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, dear brother, that is it."

"Then why did you come all the way down here? Phones are a more convenient way to deliver useless information."

"Wanted to look in on this joyous occasion," he said, rather sarcastically.

"Where are you moving her to?" Molly asked.

"A round the clock, watched cell."

Molly didn't like the sound of that at all, "Why can't she stay at Baker Street?"

Sherlock gave her a look that seemed to say **'What are you doing?'** but she ignored it, "I know I'd hate to be cooped up in a cell being watched all day. You say you have men at Baker Street with her now. Plus Sherlock and I will be there to keep an eye on her as well. That is, if that is okay with you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock studied her face for a moment, but just shrugged, "Sure, why not? As long as she doesn't try to bother me while I think."

"You'll one day, have to teach me how you do that Dr. Hooper," Mycroft said with a smirk, "We'll try her a night at Baker Street, if she doesn't cooperate, we'll move her to the cell," he got up, using his umbrella to balance himself, "Well, this is all getting a bit too warm and fuzzy for my liking. Good day, Sherlock. Dr. Hooper."

As Mycroft disappeared out of sight, Sherlock turned to Molly, "You're too nice, do you know that?"

She smiled warmly at him, "Well, I know I would hate to be sent to that cell and be watched all day. At least at Baker Street she can have a little freedom and we'll be able to keep an eye on her. Besides, she may know something useful that she hasn't told us yet."

"Maybe," he agreed, putting his hand on the small of her back, leading her back toward Mary's room.

"You were good with her, you know," she stated.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Lizzie, you were really good with her. You seemed a bit nervous. Just thought you should know that you did just fine."

She felt him lightly rub his thumb back and forth as they continued to walk. They saw that Mary had fallen asleep in their absence and Lizzie had been taken to the nursery. A very tired looking John waved as they came in, gesturing them to be quiet. He leaned in close to his friends so that he could whisper.

"She's all tuckered out," he joked, "listen, before you two go, I, and by I, I actually mean we, wanted to ask you guys something. We wanted to know that, if in the event something happened to the two of us, if you would watch after Lizzie for us?"

"You mean, be their godparents?" Molly suggested.

"Yes, exactly."

Sherlock answered before Molly could, "Of course we will. I made a vow John, remember?"

John smiled at Sherlock's response. They said their goodbyes and Molly and Sherlock were soon headed back home to Baker Street. Molly tested the word out in her head. Baker Street really was her home now. She wondered what she and Sherlock would do about living arrangements when this whole mess was sorted out. She began to imagine their future. It was an odd thing to think about; a future with Sherlock Holmes. She soon remembered that when they arrived back at their flat that they would have an additional flat mate for the time being. But all of her thoughts seemed to halt as she drifted off into a long, overdue sleep on Sherlock's shoulder. Through all the madness and sadness, in this moment she felt content. But Molly Hooper was no fool. She knew that James Moriarty would not settle with content for very long.

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**A/N: Next chapter will be in Sherlock's point of view. He will listen in on a conversation between Molly and Irene. Molly will reveal something she hasn't told anyone, not even Mary. And Irene will shock Molly with a confession of her own.**


	13. Can You Keep A Secret?

**A/N: Hello all! Sorry the update took longer than expected! I have written and re-written this multiple times and I feel that I have finally gotten it the way I want. Please enjoy and I will have comments at the end!**

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A lot had happened in Sherlock's life since the return of James Moriarty. He had been excused from his exile, whisked back to Baker Street, and began a relationship with Molly Hooper. A relationship wasn't something Sherlock thought he was capable of maintaining but nonetheless, he was trying. He had tried to push the feelings he had for Molly away by covering them with insults and focusing on work, but they had proven to be strong. Things he once thought to be meaningless suddenly became important; like human contact. He'd never been one for hugs and kisses, even as a boy, but holding and kissing Molly felt different. He had finally indulged in sentiment and he had to admit, it wasn't horrible.

What was horrible was that he was now in his living room listening to the idle chatter of two women as he was attempting to think. It had been two days since Irene Adler appeared back into his life, and now she and Molly had become as thick as thieves. Anyone else would have not seen the potential for friendship between the two, but Sherlock had spotted it the moment Irene spoke to Molly for the first time. It was late at night and Sherlock was racking his brain as to why Moriarty had been quiet for so long. But alas, focus on the subject was out the window as soon as Molly and Irene came from the kitchen to settle in the living room for one of their evening chats.

So far the conversations had been light-hearted and anecdote filled. Molly would tell Irene of stories from the morgue and Irene of her wacky adventures around the world. But this evening, something was different. Sherlock was not looking at the two women, but he could feel it in the room. Irene was finishing up a story of a client call gone wrong. The story ended with a roar of laughter, but as the laugher died, Sherlock tensed.

"Irene?" He heard Molly's soft voice question.

"Yes?"

"Is something the matter? You look….sad." Sherlock suppressed a shiver down his spine as she spoke those words.

He could practically hear the hesitance from Irene, "Because I am sad, Molly."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's a secret."

"Well, if you would like to talk about it, then you can always tell me. I'm good at keeping secrets."

After a pause, "I will tell you my secret, Molly Hooper. But first, you have to tell me yours. You're hiding something, I can tell."

Sherlock began to listen more closely.

Molly laughed, "Is it that obvious?"

"To me it is. I would say that I am shocked Sherlock hasn't figured it out, but when it comes to you, he tends to see but does not observe."

Sherlock scoffed to himself.

"Well, no one knows this secret, really. Except for Tom that is."

"What's your secret, Molly?" Irene questioned. Sherlock wasn't sure where Molly was going with this.

"I have been lying….to everyone."

Sherlock waited for Irene to say something in reply but she remained silent. He wanted nothing more than to get up from his sofa and ask her just what she had been lying about, but remained glued in his position. He waited impatiently for her to speak again.

"In your article, you said I was fresh out of my engagement to Tom. That's not quite true."

"How long?" Irene piped in.

"Not very long after John and Mary's wedding. He said he had seen the way I was looking at Sherlock and knew I was still in love with him. He told me that he loved me, but not enough to share my affection with another man. He told me to keep the ring, that it would do nothing but upset him if he took it back. For the first few weeks, I stopped wearing it, but no one seemed to notice. John and Mary were busy with newlywed things and adjusting to the thought of being parents. There were moments where I felt like Mike noticed and was going to say something, but I would always be wrong, because he would perk right up and start talking about work. And Sherlock, well, he was either so lost in a case to care or he wasn't around at all. I know it's sad, but I just felt so lonely that I started wearing it again in public. Somehow it made me feel less lonely. But one day, I just looked at myself in the mirror and looked down at this ring and I couldn't do it anymore. I was living a lie. When Sherlock pointed out the end of my engagement in the lab, I was too upset to scold him and tell him it had been over for months and that he always misses something. So, instead, I just tell people we had been distant the last few months of our relationship."

Sherlock heart sank. Molly had been sad and alone for months and no one even noticed. **He hadn't noticed**. And now, everyone thought the worst of her; thinking she had moved on from Tom so quickly. He felt angry at himself for making her feel so unimportant and hurt that she did not come to him.

"Sherlock, you can stop being so quiet. I'm well aware that you haven't been in your mind palace this whole evening. I'm shocked you haven't intervened thus far," Molly's voice sent a shock of panic through him.

He feared she was angry with him by her tone but when he sat up from the couch he could see the glimmer of sweetness in her eyes that told him she was happy that he knew. Molly moved on the arm of the chair so Sherlock could sit beside her. He obliged and lowered himself to her side.

"How could I have been so blind?" He asked no one in particular. He knew the answer to that. He had been very invested in the Magnussen case that he had barely spoken to anyone, even John. He had been the lab very few times after the wedding occurred.

"Sherlock," she faced him, her big brown eyes searching for his own, "I'm not upset with you," her hand rested on top of his, "I promise." He believed her but her words did not ease how he felt.

"Your turn," he could barely hear her say as he tilted his head back to rest on the chair and closed his eyes. He knew she was now addressing The Woman.

"Have you ever been in love with someone you shouldn't be in love with, Molly?"

Sherlock waited for Molly's "yes" in response but instead…

"No. The only man I've ever been in love with is Sherlock, and I don't feel that way."

"Then you are a lucky woman."

"Who is it that you are in love with, then, Miss Adler?"

"All my life, until I met Sherlock, have never wanted a man. Though, I was attracted to him and felt something for him, ultimately, I knew it would never work." Sherlock felt Molly's hand stiffen in his.

"So, not Sherlock, then?"

"Molly, you have to understand that I am a woman who is attracted to great power and a stone façade. I like a challenge…I like to break people. I always know what people like. And those who are uncaring, fascinate me the most."

Sherlock knew where this was going. Poor Woman, she was in love with the very man she was running from: James Moriarty. He was uncaring, kept a stone façade, and has great power.

Molly came to the same conclusion, "Is it Jim? Jim Moriarty?"

To say the woman chuckled would be an understatement because she flat-out laughed. Clearly amused with Molly's deductions as well as his own.

"Moriarty? God, no. Contrary to belief, he would be easily broken. Trust me…..I know what he likes."

"Then who!" He would laugh at Molly's impatience if he hadn't been so curious himself.

"The object of my affections is the Ice Man, himself."

Molly didn't even get the chance to answer. Sherlock sat straight up and raised his eyebrows in The Woman's direction.

"I'm sorry, what?" He deadpanned.

"Who is the Ice Man?" Molly asked as she let go of Sherlock's hand to pick up her cuppa.

"Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft," explained Irene, "perhaps you know him?"

Molly almost choked on her tea, "Mycroft!" she exclaimed, "Mycroft Holmes….Sherlock's older brother…..Mycroft."

Irene sighed, "Yes, that's the one."

"You're in love with my brother?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. I thought it was quite obvious."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, "Not particularly."

"True, we've had very little contact, but something about him drives me wild. He rarely indulges himself in sentiment, even less than you, Sherlock, and he has more power than the Queen. Breaking him would be the ultimate challenge. And it's the oddest thing….I have absolutely no idea what he likes. _**I know what everyone likes.**_"

"And this is what is making you so distraught?" He really didn't mean for it to come out so bluntly.

"That is a huge part of it. Unrequited love is one of the hardest things to experience. I know your brother is not looking for a goldfish," her red stained lips curled into a smile, "The other part is that I am going to die soon."

The sound of shattering glass interrupted the question Sherlock had intended to ask. When Sherlock approached the sight of the crash, he saw a black vehicle screech away into the distance. At his feet lay a heavy stone with two envelopes attached to it. One envelope read "**Molly"** and the other **"The Woman"**.

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**Duh duh duhhh! Bet you weren't expecting not so "fresh out of her engagement" Molly and The Woman's unrequited love for the Ice Man! ;) More to come kiddos. Will start working on Chapter 14 this week!**


	14. Did You Miss Me?

**A/N: It's been over a year since I've updated. I bet you guys thought I gave up on you, didn't you? I took time off from this story because I just didn't think I could do it justice. But, I think I have grown as a writer since the last time I posted for this story and am very determined to finish it. Here goes nothing.**

Sherlock stood to retrieve the rocks and notes from the floor among the glass but one was snatched out of his hands before he could comprehend what had just happened. Bringing Molly's note to her he watched as Irene stood by the fireplace, blood running down her hand from the shards of glass that had splayed out upon her letter; she didn't even seem to notice. He noticed her lips curve into a smile as her eyes darted along the page.

"Well?" Molly questioned, still holding her letter unopened in her hands.

"Nothing I didn't already know," she answered, letting her letter crumble in her left hand while she ran a perfectly polished fingernail over Billy the Skull with her right.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Sherlock spit coldly.

She snapped her head in his direction, "Why not? Here," she tossed the wadded up paper into his lap, "read a nice story before bedtime, mum and dad. If you'll excuse me I'd like to get some sleep."

Molly wanted to follow her in concern but she felt Sherlock halt her attempts to get up. "Sherlock, she's obviously upset. I should go and check on her."

Reading over Irene's letter he began to shake his head, "No, I think she needs to be alone right now, Molly."

Frustrated, Molly snatched the letter out of Sherlock's hands.

_Irene,_

_You're in too deep. Playing nice with Sherlock and Miss Molly is going to get you nowhere. You're a walking target. Watch your back, because I will stab it._

_XOXO_

_Jim_

Slumping further into Sherlock's side Molly sighed as she looked at her letter. Opening the envelope she noticed that it felt heavier than the last one. How much could he have to say? Ripping the seal a small metal object made a light thumping sound as it fell from the paper. Getting off the chair she noticed that it was a key. But a key to what?

Handing the key off to Sherlock to inspect she unfolded the note and read aloud.

_Molly,_

_How have you been darling? Enjoying Irene's company I hope. Good for you on not having hard feelings about your boy toy seeing her naked and all. I can't say that I could be so okay with the situation. But, I'm getting off topic! I bet you're just eaten up with anticipation to what the key goes to aren't you? Well, I'll include an address at the bottom for you, no worries. Sherlock won't have to go into super sleuth mode on this one. I just can't wait for you to see my little surprise for you. _

_Until next time,_

_Jim_

Dread pooled into Molly's stomach and chest. Why couldn't this all just be over? Tying her hair up into a bun Molly called off the address to Sherlock. Of course he automatically recognized it as the address to a storage locker across town. Slipping on her shoes and grabbing her jacket she set off to follow him out the door.

"Molly, I think that you should stay here."

She looked at him as though he had just said the stupidest thing known to man, "You can't be serious?"

"I can and I am," he answered, "I don't know how dangerous this could be."

Crossing her arms defensively she answered, "Forget it, I'm coming with you. No matter where I am I could be in danger. At least if I'm with you I have a better chance of surviving. Besides, I highly doubt he wants us dead just yet. So stop being so thick and let's go."

He sighed angrily, "Molly, when did you become so stubborn?"

"The day I met you," she deadpanned as she brushed past him to walk down the stairs.

He couldn't help but smirk.

Rushing down the stairs behind her he quickly dialed his brother's number. "Mycroft, Moriarty has sent us an address. Molly and I are going there now. I need you to make sure your men keep an eye on the flat, we're leaving The Woman here." He could hear his brother's protests on the other end but hung up before he could get into a fight with him.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Hailing a cab they made it across town in a faster time than Molly had anticipated and began to search the property for the correct numbered lot.

"234, 235," she could hear Sherlock mumble ahead of her, "238! Found it, Molly. I texted Lestrade, he should be bringing backup soon but I think we should go on ahead and check it out."

"Right," she retorted, handing him the key.

Not sure what she was going to be face to face with soon she took a few quick breaths and braced herself. But nothing could prepare her for what was on the other side of that lock. Pushing the door open Sherlock quickly located a light switch revealing what was in the room. Papers surrounded them; papers about Sherlock, Molly, John, everyone that had ever been connected to Sherlock Holmes ever. In the middle of the room sat a television on a stand and a single DVD player. A sticky note on the front of the television stand read, "PRESS PLAY". So they did.

What happened next made Molly want to punch Moriarty, punch a wall, and then throw up; in that particular order. Moriarty appeared on the screen, flashing them that winning smile that had won her over when he was "Jim from IT" and he began to speak to them.

"Hello there my lovelies, it's just grand to see you. Well, I can't actually see you right now, but you get the point. I'm so glad that you've successfully found one of my little hideaways; good job on you two. But, I suppose you want to know why you're here. It's because I want to give you a little something. Never say that I'm not a generous bloke."

The image of Moriarty was suddenly replaced by Tom. Well, it looked like Tom but it also didn't look like Tom. His hair was slicked back and he didn't wear a coat or a scarf. He was looking around him suspiciously when Moriarty entered the picture beside of him.

'_**Take a seat, Tom,' Moriarty requested.**_

_**Tom did as he was asked, 'Whattaya want, Jim? I left a poker match for this.'**_

_**Moriarty's smile grew sly, 'As I recall, you owe me a favor. A big favor.' **_

_**Tom's smile suddenly mirrored Moriarty's, "Ohh, you're finally cashing in on that favor, huh? Alright, alright, whatever it is, I'll do it. Whatever can get me back to my game.' **_

'_**I was hoping you would say that,' he fished into his jacket pocket and retrieved a photograph of Molly that had obviously been taken from her flat.**_

'_**I know this girl,' Tom snapped his finger and looked at the picture, 'she was friends with that freak who threw himself off of that hospital.' **_

'_**That she was….or should I say is? He didn't die, it was all a ruse.'**_

'_**No kidding? Well, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, you're supposed to be dead too.' Tom laughed. **_

'_**Let's just keep that quiet it for now, eh?" Moriarty winked at him. 'This is where you come in. I want you to get close to Molly. Really, really close, if you catch my drift.'**_

'_**I catch your drift,' he smiled wickedly, 'how long do you want me to keep it going?'**_

'_**Well, Sherlock is going to be coming back sometime in the near future, so we'll talk once he comes back into the picture. But until then, you're going to be the devoted boyfriend that she's always wanted.'**_

'_**You got it boss,' he answered.**_

'_**Oh, and Tom? We're gonna have to make a few wardrobe changes.'**_

The video faded to black and it was over. Molly felt so many things at once: anger, heartbreak, betrayal, and others that she didn't even have a name for. She could feel her face getting hot and her palms hurt from how clenched they were. She could sense Sherlock was trying to say something to her but she ignored him.

She began to pace about the room and didn't even realize Sherlock's phone had rang until she heard him yelling at Mycroft, "Mycroft, if we didn't think he was really alive before we know now. If someone is trying to fake his return they're putting a lot of effort into making it look real. We have him on video with Molly's ex- what? What do you mean? How did this happen? For someone with as much power as you have you would think that you wouldn't be entirely useless!"

"Molly," he put his hand on her shoulder but she brushed it off, "we have to get back to the flat."

She whirled around angrily, "Why?"

"Because Mycroft's men are useless. The Woman is gone."


End file.

Sherlock, Drama, Romance